Space Dementia
by TiredOfBeingNice
Summary: Written for the Phandom Big Bang 2017. One morning, Dan woke up and was completely separate from himself and others, and before he knew it, himself and the ground. Or the one where Dan commits suicide, but is in their lounge after his own funeral, beginning the start of many of Phil's unanswered questions about dan's survival, motivation, and why he can't just move on.


**you can find the full credits/thank-you's at tiredofbeingnice123 . tumblr . com (no spaces).**

 **and existence is beautiful, reader  
enjoy xx**

 _ **tw for suicide, major character death (technically), swearing, implied homophobia, mentions of drinking (like once), depression, existential thoughts, general angsty feels, lol**_

* * *

space dementia

...

 _recently_ , _i have fallen deep into a theory._

 _i grew an interest in the theory of us not being the only species that holds the universe together, and how humans are much like the universe itself; an array of planets and stars._

 _i like to think of myself as a vessel for a small fragment of the universe. this black abyss controls everything inside of me; the planets, the comets, the stars._

 _on good days, it would shake and scream at everything. it blew winds of space-dust and sent asteroids with messages that shot from one place to another, leaving a trail of fiery light._

 _it's fascinating how it could go wrong at any given time, but it doesn't._

 _on bad days, it was quiet._

* * *

Tesco was too far of a walk, Phil decides.

Everything around him is buzzing in normal, London fashion. He is walking down the street, his arms aching from the weight of family-sized Shreddies—Dan's going to kill him—in plastic bags that are stretching apart.

However, something feels… _off_.

It is a lovely day: the sun is shining at its highest peak in the afternoon sky, and he is surrounded by a normal atmosphere of seemingly normal people. It is his turn to pick up groceries, and it is Dan's turn to set up the dinner table.

 _'So what feels so wrong?'_ Phil thinks to himself, nearing the apartment building.

As soon as the thought leaves him, he feels a buzz in his back pocket. He manages to pull it out and put the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

"Hello?" Phil says, turning a corner.

 _"Phil."_

It's Dan's voice, but it's barely heard over layers of wind, car engines, and…screaming people. Phil frowns.

 _'Why is he outside? Who's screaming?'_

"Are you out?" Phil says loudly, trying to talk over the noise. "I told you I wouldn't take that long. I'm almost home now, I'm just turning a corn—"

 _"Don't come home,"_ Dan says, and it's only now that Phil realizes that Dan's crying. He stops walking, a sudden siren ringing in his ears.

"Are…" He stands there, hesitant; "are you crying?"

 _"I was always one for dramatic endings,"_ Dan whispers shakily, and Phil's heart stops. He walks faster now, all the way in front of the apartment building on the other side of the road.

"Dan, I'm coming home," Phil says, about to cross the road when he sees it.

People are near the apartment building, screaming into phones and pointing up at the sky. Phil looks in the direction they're looking at and drops the bags in his hand.

They're not pointing to the sky;  
they're pointing to _Dan_.

Phil tightens his grip on his phone in the palm of his hand.

"D-Dan," Phil stammers. "Oh…oh god. Please tell me that…t-that isn't you."

 _"I need you to tell my family I love them."_ Phil shakes his head, frozen in his spot. His mind is racing with possibilities — could he risk not seeing Dan for a split second and run all the way to the roof? He can't run that fast. Someone's already calling 999, someone's yelling at him, cars are stopping, _everything is spinning._

"Stop it, Dan," Phil manages to say, tears starting to fall. "I need you to get down from there. Please, okay? For me, Dan. For m—"

 _"This is for you."_ Phil feels his heart drop. _"I know it's hard."_

"Dan, get the _fuck_ down," Phil says, gritting his teeth as tears kept coming down. Dan's breath hitches, as if seemingly shocked. "I'm going to go up there, Dan, I promise we can make this work, you just need to trus—"

 _"I'm going to keep this short, Phil."_ He can see the small blur of Dan on the edge of the roof, holding the phone to his ear. _"I don't know how to end things, but I need you to know that this isn't you. This is me. And this is…this is a theory."_

"Theory…?" Phil murmurs, mostly to himself. He begins to pick up speed, more panicked. "Dan, we can talk, okay? We can make things work."

 _"Maybe this is what I have to do, Phil,"_ Dan says, more strongly now. _"Maybe I need to take the leap and break myself to allow this small fragment of the universe to finally live, and––"_

Dan's breath hitches. He's looking at Phil now, and Phil swears those brown eyes used to be brighter.

 _"Just move on, Phil,"_ Dan says softly. _"This…"_

"Don't," Phil says, not being able to take it anymore. Dan lets out a broken laugh.

 _"This…well, this was the most fun I ever had."_

Dan's phone drops from his fingers.

Phil takes one step forward,  
 _but Dan beats him to it._

"Dan!" Phil screams.

Sirens are ringing in his ears and he watches helplessly as Dan began to fall.

…

He doesn't end up seeing what happens. People are surrounding the patch of concrete that Dan landed on, and before he could cross the road, paramedics were rushing to the scene, rolling stretchers and first-aid kit. Phil stops in the middle of the empty road, letting people push past him.

The dial tone still rings in his ear.

"Let me through!" Phil ends up yelling, walking off the road and onto the sidewalk. His movements seem slow and shaky. "That's…that's my friend!"

The crowd is heavily layered by bodies of people; some crying, some trying to peek at the scene of crime.

All of them are strangers.

By the time he breaks through the crowd, the crowd was already disappearing. Dan's body was no longer there, and all he could see was _blood_.

He catches the glance of a paramedic, and he stumbles towards him.

"S-Sir, please," Phil stutters. "Is he okay? He's fine, right? Where is he? Can I ride the ambulance with him? Where is Dan? Whe—"

"I'm sorry, sir." Phil almost skips a breath. "Your friend is dead."

* * *

 _Dead._

It is the same word that was echoing in his mind for almost a month now. That was the only word he ever got out nowadays when people asked what was wrong, and was the only word he ever heard.

The internet was the first thing to go. Their fans knew what happened, and they were all mourning alongside with him, spreading hashtag after hashtag and stupid, tear-filled reaction videos.

It didn't feel real to him. Seeing the icons of Dan's derpy face and cat whiskers plastered all over the internet; they all felt like robots. He almost forgot they were real people.

So he shut them out completely. He never made a video for it, and he never tweeted anything other than announcing a hiatus that he felt like would be forever. That was the end of his career; he felt as if it died with Dan (because really, he didn't have a career without _him_ ).

He arranged the funeral alongside Dan's parents, but never told them what Dan said. He couldn't bring himself to. He out of all people knew what Dan's family was like. He was already confused as to why Dan would even ask him to tell them.

Still, he knew he had to eventually. He arranged to meet them the day after the funeral. Despite everything they put Dan through, they deserved to know.

Phil was surprised he was even going out. After Dan's death, he was cooped up in his room for hours on end, only coming out to go to the washroom, or eat if he remembered to. The flat was a mess. Friends came and went, his parents stopped by every now and then, but they all left because it was a lost cause. _He was a lost cause._

People told him that he should start cleaning Dan's room, as if it was easy to clear a room of someone he would never see again. On one out of many trips she made to his flat, Louise told him that there might be a suicide letter in his room. Phil didn't care.

Dan's door was closed ever since it happened.

And now he's walking towards the flat after the funeral, tears staining his blazer and the moon shining too brightly in his eyes. He has been wearing glasses too often nowadays, as painful as it was (because Dan would've said he looked fucking lovely).

He goes through the front door of the building, keeping his eyes off the sidewalk—there's probably no more blood, but then again, he doesn't have the heart to check—and going up the stairs to get to the flat when he realises there was a couple going into an elevator.

After an endless amount of stairs, he walks a seemingly infinite corridor to the front door. The keys go in and it opens with ease, and Phil slams it behind him as he walks in.

The flat is brighter than he left it. He actually didn't remember turning the lights on, but maybe he did — he wasn't very good at keeping track of things nowadays.

He drags himself towards the lounge, hoping for something to eat, and—

 _There's a man in his lounge._

* * *

Pale. That's the only thing Phil can say first.

He is paler than he was, which is definitely saying something; Phil is almost translucent, but Dan…he is practically transparent.

Dan looks like something that came out of his own coffin; his hair is in curls, he is wearing the same jumper he wore when it happened, but he is stick-thin and sickly pale. He looks as if there was nothing—not even a fifteen story building—that hurt him at all.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing in my flat?" is the second thing Phil can say; except this time, he actually says it. Loud, as if he was angry, but really he is just confused and scared and…almost happy.

Because here, Dan is _alive_ ; sure, he looks seemingly lifeless, and he doesn't have an explanation—not yet, he hopes—but it's _Dan_ , and he is standing in their lounge.

Dan doesn't say a word. Phil shakes his head vigorously, as if trying to see if this image could be shaken out of his mind and if he should actually take Louise's advice and call a bloody psychiatrist.

"Y-You're not…you're not real," Phil says, as if making a decision. He stands straighter; "You are just…just in my mind."

Then the words escape his lips; " _Phil_."

They float to him as if they were dust. Phil clenches his fist, his tie suddenly feeling too tight and the room was suddenly too small.

"T-This…this is crazy," Phil says again. "You have been _d-dead_ for…for a-a month! So you're…you're not real, okay?!"

He thinks he's screaming now, and he keeps forgetting it's almost midnight and he shares these walls with other people; maybe if he screams louder, the pain will stop and his tragic flashback would be over.

Dan doesn't look scared. He raises his hands, as if trying to beckon some kind of calmer force in Phil.

"I-I'm sorry," Dan says quietly, almost letting it out as a sob. Phil is shaking.

"T-This is a sick prank," Phil blurts out. "Some sick person is trying to replicate those…those phanfiction stuff! Where you're dead and you come back and fucking haunt me, so Dan—or whatever the _fuck_ you are—the show is over and I want you out!"

Silence. Phil sucks in a breath; he didn't even realise that he was panting as if he ran a marathon. Dan calmly looks at Phil and gives him a tired smile.

"We were always funny people, weren't we?"

Phil stares him harshly, from his feet to his eyes. It was as if the lights in the room were focused on every corner of the lounge but the floor surrounding Dan. Phil takes a final breath and closes his eyes.

"I'm going to bed," he announces, trying not to imagine Dan's disappointment (or Dan at all). "I'm going to bed, and in the morning, you're going to be gone."

And he storms to his room like a kid throwing a tantrum, and the echo of a door slamming closed echoes in the empty flat once more.

* * *

He's not gone in the morning.

In fact, it's almost as if he was more 'here' than he was last night. He is sitting on the couch, staring at a blank TV. Phil stands there, trying to come up with words to say.

"You know that you can turn it on, right?"

He almost expects Dan to laugh, call him a 'spork' or something, and then turn the TV on so they could watch a stupid anime or something, as if nothing from the last month of their life was real.

He doesn't. Instead, he stays silent until he finally says, "I didn't want to wake you up."

Phil stares at him, almost dumbfounded. He moves towards the couch, and quickly judged Dan's slightly frightened face, deciding to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

"Um," Phil begins, "you are going to tell me why you're still here. Have…have I gone crazy?"

Dan forces a laugh. "No, I don't think you are."

Phil blinks at the sudden noise ringing in his ears; it felt as if it were years since someone laughed, forced or not. He doesn't laugh back, but he does smile. He's not sure if it was genuine or not, but it seemed to make Dan more comfortable.

"So…," Phil trails off, "are you going to tell me? I mean…tell me, um, just… _how?_ "

"You're usually so good at talking to people," Dan hums, looking Phil in the eye. Phil swallows back a small scream; the eyes that were once filled with rich life look as if they were sucked dry of it.

Silence. Dan finally sighs, and begins to speak.

"I…I threw fake corpse down," Dan says slowly. "I was going to do it, I really was, but I guess I freaked out or something. So I went to the morgue one night, talked with a classmate I used to know, and hid the body under my bed. When you went to Tesco, I went to the roof and called you, said my goodbyes, and just…threw the corpse."

When Dan finishes, Phil feels as if he was stunned into silence.

"I mean, first of all, I saw you fall," Phil says softly. "And second of all…why would you want to fake your death?"

Dan stares at him, and the look in his eyes gives it away.

"That's not it, is it." Phil almost feels hurt. Dan looks down, almost guilty, but says nothing.

"Are you ever going to tell m—"

"It's harder than you think," Dan snaps coldly, taking Phil by surprise. Phil blinks, and he could feel tears coming down his face. Dan's eyes fall to the ground.

"Sorry," he whispers shyly. Phil shakes his head.

"No, I understand," he says, voice nearly trembling. "It must be really hard. I shouldn't pry — you can tell me whenever you want to."

Dan nods, and Phil decides to close the gap with a hug. However, when he got an inch closer to him, Dan reels back frantically as if he were burned.

Phil pulls back slowly, watching Dan's eyes flicker with an indescribable fear. He looks at Dan sympathetically.

"I'm…I'm just glad you're home," Phil finally says. Dan nods again wordlessly.

"Do you want breakfast?" Phil asks. "I think we have some Shreddies left; you were right, a family sized box is too bi—"

"No thanks," Dan cuts him off, standing up and moves slowly to his closed-off room.

Phil barely hears the door open at all.

* * *

He actually films a video in a solid two hours—the first video he has made in a month—and begins to edit it later in the day. As he does, he hears footsteps shuffling in the kitchen, and he slips off his headphones and turns around to see that it was Dan in the kitchen.

He didn't hear him go in, he realises. But Dan is standing there, staring at the coffee pot that his fingers were barely touching.

Phil looks at him, confused, and he didn't notice Dan catching his stare until he says, "I landed on my feet."

Phil musters a laugh—one that actually felt genuine for the first time in a long time—and Dan smiles too; was it the first time he did that as well?

"Should I even be laughing at that?" Phil says, almost giggling.

Dan shrugs, and Phil joins him in the kitchen. Phil's arm nearly grazes his, but Dan pulls back before the contact could be made. He frowns, slowly grabbing the coffee pot, and Dan smiles sheepishly.

"I'm, um…I'm still trying to figure out how this…works," he says hesitantly. Phil scoffs.

"How what works," he says, almost giggling, "being alive?"

Dan says nothing, and Phil clears his throat.

"Too far?" Dan doesn't respond. Phil adds, "Sorry."

"S'fine," Dan mumbles, making his way to the lounge. Phil mentally kicks himself, and looks down at the coffee pot he was still holding and looks up at Dan.

"Do you want a coffee?" Phil asks. "I mean, I— _we_ don't have much left, but I can run to Starbucks and grab us a pair of caram—"

"No, thanks," Dan cuts him off. "I'm not hungry."

"But you were just…" Phil trails off, but the sullen look on Dan's face stops his words in thin air. He nods, setting the coffee pot on the counter and going to the lounge. He sits beside Dan on the couch, and noticing the gap, moves a bit closer.

"Dan," he starts off. Dan looks away immediately. Phil sighs.

"You're going to have to talk to me about it eventually," Phil presses. "I need to know how you're still…here."

"What do you mean?" Dan asks dumbly, avoiding eye contact.

"Dan," Phil says, close to whining. When Dan doesn't say anything, Phil shakes his head and asks, "Can you at least tell me how you felt when it happened?"

"Why would you ever want to know that?" Dan says, voice bridging on the edge of annoyance. Phil shifts in his seat uncomfortably, and shrugs.

"I just want to know," he replies. "I'm lucky you're even here. If I can help you in any way I could to make sure you never feel that way again…I would be forever thankful that I could."

Dan stays quiet for a while. Phil sighs, about to stand and give up, thinking about how he could retreat to his room now before it was too late, and Dan says,

"It felt dark."

Phil almost skips a breath. He relaxes into the couch once more and asks, "What do you mean?"

"It just felt dark," Dan says again. "I was…I was scared for it to happen. I thought of drinking beforehand — thought it'd make it easier. But…something told me that I deserve to…to feel it."

Phil's heart breaks. Dan's shaking a bit, but he keeps going.

"I…I d-didn't want to," Dan continues. "I stayed up the whole night before it happened trying to talk myself out of it. I suppose…well, I guess I didn't win."

"You could've talked to me," Phil whispers, almost hurt. Dan sighs.

"It's not that easy, Phil," Dan says. "Whatever it was, it wanted me alone. _Isolated_."

Now Phil was the one who lost his words. Dan looks down.

"At the end of the day, it all came down to fear," he says after a while. "It was the fear…the fear of living like this. Living like a vessel containing a black hole…I didn't want that for the rest of my life. Something needed to be free and I was the one stopping it from doing so."

Phil stares at him as if he was a completely new person.

"B-But,"—Dan takes a deep breath, trying to recollect himself—"I landed on my feet."

Phil can't take it anymore. He tries to hold Dan's hand—to squeeze it and say everything was alright; to cry with him and hold him close, vowing never to lose him again— _but Dan pulls back._

"P-Please," Phil says, voice breaking. He didn't mean to sound as pushy as he did, but _God_ he'd do anything to feel Dan again.

Dan doesn't move.

Phil reels back slowly, coughing a little and trying to pass it off as if it was nothing.

"N-Never feel like you're alone, Dan…y-you're never alone," Phil says when the tears stopped for a single second. "Please…just talk to me, alright?"

Dan says nothing, and Phil gives up; that was his attempt for today.

When he stands up and moves towards his bedroom—that video wouldn't edit itself, unfortunately—he can hear Dan sob. His heart breaks, but he keeps moving forward anyway; it's all he can do.

* * *

 _Dan stood at the roof's edge, looking down at the crowd of people below him. They were circling around the entrance to the apartment building, herding around the edge of the sidewalk and surrounded the door._

 _The only person he could see was Phil; phone to his ear and watching the fear set in his eyes. Dan took a deep breath –– he has to fall. He has to escape._

 _Just not like this._

 _He dropped the phone, and jumped the second Phil took a step forward._

 _The fall was longer than he thought it'd be. His eyes stared at the sidewalk that slowly became bigger and closer before it grazes his nose and––_

 _He stopped_

 _Hovering millimeters off the concrete, he heard people gasp at the man with a bungee cord wrapped around him, stopping his fall merely seconds before it could end._

 _A friend from his university years ran towards, dressed as a paramedic, with a fake corpse in her arms. Dan took a glance at the body as he took off his harness and nearly gasped as well; prop design was clearly the right career choice for her –– the corpse looked almost life-like and almost exactly like him._

 _Dan took a shaky breath and the harness snapped off._

 _The body was placed on the sidewalk as the crowd broke out, fake blood soaking the grey in the concrete. Dan ran into the apartment building and before leaving to go through the back, he saw Phil._

 _He's talking to her frantically, and he could tell his friend was really trying to keep up the act._

 _But she managed, and as she walked into the ambulance with the fake corpse, Dan watched Phil sink to his knees, a smaller group of people surrounding him before Dan couldn't see him anymore._

 _He sighed, closing his eyes and trying to retain himself from pushing open the front door and giving Phil a hug._

 _Instead, he walked and walked and walked until he reached the back door and when he opened it, he––_

"Bullshit."

The next word doesn't leave Dan's mouth. His lips are parted, the next lie stopped by Phil once again.

"Pardon?" Dan asks, almost annoyed. Phil rolls his eyes.

"You do know that I met Lillian, right? She's a dentist." _Shit_. Realization hit Dan as Phil continues.

"And you're not that fast," he goes on. "You couldn't do that all without me seeing you. I went into the apartment after I talked to the paramedic––who was a guy, by the way––to get away from…from everything."

Phil's voice goes really quiet, and Dan sits there, almost guilty. Phil sighs.

"You're not bloody Sherlock either," he adds, almost icily. "Nice spin on the Reichenbach fall."

"That's the story you're getting today." His voice is quiet too, but it's a different kind of quiet –– he is trying to conceal something, and Phil can't put his finger on what that something is.

"This isn't a game, Dan," Phil whispers. This seems to catch Dan's attention, and Phil can feel the other's dark brown eyes on him. Dan nods, and sits down on the couch.

Phil decides not to push and instead aims for conversation. He catches Dan stare at Phil's phone on the coffee table, and Phil attempts a smile.

"Not on Tumblr?" Dan's eyes flicker towards his. "I mean, you totally can, you know. It's been, what, three days? I'm okay, you know –– we can try and go back to…to normal."

The last word comes out with some difficulty. Luckily, Dan doesn't seem to notice.

Or at least, 'normal' wasn't the word throwing him off. Dan continues to stare at the phone, before looking up at him.

"I can't," he says simply, almost sadly. Phil sighs, standing up.

"Let's go," he announces. Dan frowns, but stands up too.

"Wait, what?"

"We're going outside," Phil says, grabbing his coat from the end of the couch. Dan shakes his head.

"I don't know if that's a good ide––"

"Dan, it's like, two in the morning," Phil cuts him off. "You can go out. No one will see you, and if they do, it won't matter. The sooner the better."

"Phil, I'm n––"

"Dan you haven't been out this whole time and you're miserable!" Phil snaps. Dan shrinks back into the couch, and Phil sighs.

"I'm sorry," he says, quieter now. "I just…let's just get some fresh air. For the both of us. We can go to the park?"

Dan says nothing.

"Please?"

Dan stares at Phil and sighs. "Fine."

Phil breaks out into a smile, slipping on some shoes and before he walks out the door, he realises something strange. He turns around and faces Dan.

"You've been wearing the same jumper for three days or so," Phil points out. "It's a bit chilly outside; do you want to change into something a bit more thick?"

Dan stares at the sleeve and then at Phil. "I'm always cold, Phil."

* * *

"Why can't I touch you?"

Dan stops walking and watches as Phil go on through the park without him. Phil realizes that Dan stops and turns around to face him. He frowns.

"Did I…oh my God, I said something wrong, have I?"

"No, no you didn't," Dan says quickly. "No..it's just the topic kind of startled me. I mean, we were talking about the _Game of Thrones_ episodes I missed when I was—"

"Yeah, we were," Phil cuts him off promptly. He sighs. "I just wanted to…you know, hold your hand and stuff. I know it sounds really weird, but I just wanted to…hold you."

Dan shifts uncomfortably, tugging the sleeve of his jumper.

"I know you do," he says quietly. "I'm sorry, Phil. I guess…I guess I'm not ready yet."

"But ready for what?" Phil says, before it clicks in his mind.

 _"I need you to tell my family I love them."_

"Dan?" Phil asks. "Did your parents ever…hurt you?"

Dan blinks and then breaks into a small smile. He chuckles.

"Oh God, of course not!" Dan says. "Degrade me? Yeah, they did. But they could never physically hurt me."

Phil stares at him, almost sadly. Dan hesitantly adds, "I told you everything, Phil."

"About your family?" Phil asks. "Yeah, I know about you and your family — I was actually going to talk to your family after the funeral."

"Huh." Dan looks up at the dark sky. Phil sighs.

"You should talk to them, you know?" Phil says. "I feel like they should be the first ones to know that…that you're still here, you know?"

 _"Fucking mental."_

The words barely leaves the stranger's lips when Phil stops in his tracks. The stranger continues to pass through Dan, and Phil shoots him a cold glare.

"Excuse me?" Phil growls. "It's, like, three in the morning — is every hour an hour for some homophobic dick to open his mouth and spit out some unoriginal insult?!"

The stranger stares at Dan for a few seconds, and then back at Phil, who is seemingly enraged. The stranger sighs, and continues to walk along the path ahead of them.

"What a lunatic," he mutters loud enough for Phil to hear. Phil opens his mouth to say something, but Dan stands in front of him quickly.

"Don't," Dan says quietly, but sternly. Phil looks as if he might jump the guy, but calms down in a few seconds.

"I don't see how that doesn't bother you," Phil says. "I don't get how anyone can be so ignorant. We're not even…"

Phil trails off, shaking his head and muttering the rest under his breath. Dan stares in the direction that the stranger walked away in, and then at a confused Phil. He sighs, going to the nearest bench and sitting down. Phil follows.

"Did you want to talk about something?" Phil asks. Dan shrugs.

"I am not sure if I want to," he answers. "Now…well, now would be a pretty good time to do so. Especially after, um, all of that."

"Did it bother you?" Phil blurts out. "Because we can totally find that guy and kick his ass."

Dan laughs. "Sure."

The laugh seems empty, and it is drowned out by the rush of a breeze flying straight through them. Phil watches Dan sit there in thought and sighs, trying to sit down quietly too and take in the surroundings.

The lamp posts illuminating the empty park are seemingly brighter than they were before. Some stars peek through the velvet blanket of a sky above them, and a spotlight of artificial light is shining on Dan when he says it.

"When I fell, I didn't hit the ground."

* * *

 _Dan stood at the roof's edge, looking down at the crowd of people below him. They were circling around the entrance to the apartment building, herding around the edge of the sidewalk and surrounded the door._

 _The only person he could see was Phil; phone to his ear and watching the fear set in his eyes. Dan took a deep breath –– he has to fall. He has to escape._

 _Just not like this._

 _He dropped the phone, and jumped the second Phil took a step forward._

 _The fall was longer than he thought it'd be. His eyes stared at the sidewalk that slowly became bigger and closer before it grazes his nose and––_

 _He fell straight through the portal._

 _Dan knew he had to act quickly; his friend, Lillian—who just had a breakthrough in alternate dimensions and created the perfect formula to travel in between worlds—had told him that he had to be in and out of the portal in less than a minute, before it closed up for good._

 _She was able to pinpoint a universe where another Dan was dead—which wasn't exactly the best thing to hear, but he went with it anyway—and was able to locate where the portal should lead to._

 _A morgue._

 _Dan grabbed the unattended body as soon as he could, right off the table. He stared at it for a mere second — it looked exactly like him. His eyes, his hair, his skin; granted, the corpse was much more paler than he was now, scarily enough…_

 _"Dan, come on!" Lillian's voice buzzed in his headset. "The paramedics just arrived — we need a body."_

 _Dan throws the body up, back into the portal, and watched as it landed perfectly on the sidewalk where he seemingly landed. Blood pooled from the side of dead-Dan's head._

 _"Alright, now get out of there!"_

 _Before Dan could jump back into the portal himself, an alien burst through the doors of the room, followed by dozens more. His eyes widened and for a split second, he was afraid. His fear quickly converted into a surge of confidence and he smirked._

 _"You don't think I was prepared?" he said smugly, before pulling out a laser gun. "Well, we'll see who's not prepared!"_

 _With a roar, Dan shot at the aliens blindly, each one of them exploding in front of him. Green goo splashed onto his shirt, and when it was all done, he looked up to see the portal slowly shrinking._

 _"Dan, hurry up!" Lillian's voice yelled. "The portal's about to close!_

 _Dan looked at the green remains of the aliens, smiled proudly , and before the portal closed, he—_ _  
_

"Now you're just joking around, aren't you," Phil deadpans, slightly disappointed. Dan shrugs.

"I had to make it interesting somehow," he replies. Phil groans. "My humour comes from 3 am."

"Dan, why can't you just talk to me?" Phil asks quietly. "You used to talk to me about everything, and you still can. I want to help you, Dan. Can…can't you just let me?"

Phil sounds almost hurt. Dan looks at him and sighs, digging his hands in his jean pockets.

"I can't talk to you about it," Dan says. "If I talk about it, I'm only going to hurt you. I…I already did hurt you, but I won't do it again. Not like this."

"But Dan, I am ready for the truth," Phil protests.

"You're still grieving, Phil," Dan snaps. "You're still grieving my loss."

"But you're still here." Dan looks at Phil, an indescribable expression written on his face. Phil sighs.

"I just want you to know that I am here," he corrects himself. "I am always going to be here. I may not know why you are here, or what is going to happen now, but I am always going to be here."

The gap between them suddenly feels too big. Phil decides to scoot closer to him, the artificial spotlight now on both of them. Dan visibly tenses, but doesn't move away.

He smiles softly and adds, "Because you're here now too."

Dan just smiles sadly.

* * *

When Dan walks into the living room the following morning, Phil is straightening pillows on the couch and the smell of cookies filled the air. He frowns.

"Expecting company?" Dan asks, and hesitantly adds, "Because I…I'm cool with just chilling in my room for the day if you need me to."

Phil doesn't look at him, nor gives him a response. Dan blinks.

"Um, Phil?"

Phil sighs, fixing one more pillow and then turning to face Dan.

"Louise and PJ are coming over today," he mumbled, just loud enough for Dan to hear.

"Alright?" Dan says, still confused. "I told you I can just stay in my room for the day. I can even go out for the day. I suppose I could use the sun and stuff—"

"They're coming to see you," Phil says, almost guiltily. Dan's eyes widen.

"W-What?" he stammers.

"I'm sorry," Phil says, walking towards Dan, who was slowly backing away. "I know I should've told you first, but I know you'd freak out like this."

"I-I'm not panicking," Dan stutters. "I am…fine."

Phil looks at Dan incredulously. "Please tell me the truth; what do you feel about this?"

Dan sighs, digging his hands in the pocket of his jeans. "I wish you told me. I don't know if it's the best idea to go public about all of this."

"But it wouldn't be public!" Phil protests. "It is two of our closest friends. They just want to know if I'm alright, and…and you're here, Dan. _And I'm alright._ "

Dan's breath gets caught in his throat, but before he could argue any further, they both hear knocking at the immediately turns away from Phil, about to make a break for his room when Phil reaches out to grab his wrist. Dan instinctively pulls back. Phil looks at him for a few seconds, almost apologetically, and sighs.

"Please," Phil pleads one more time. "We have to at least try."

Dan stares at him wordlessly, before nodding. Phil smiles, and turns around to call out, "Key's under the mat!"

Dan takes a nervous breath, going to his room for the meantime, feeling as if his heart was racing a thousand miles a minute. He could hear the door unlock and people entering. Phil's muffled cheer could be heard from all the way in in his room, and then listens to PJ's and Louise's equally happy—were they happy?—responses.

Scratch that. They didn't seem happy — they seem _pitiful_. Or at least, sympathetic. It makes Dan wonder how long has it been since Phil has had company.

The voices became clearer, and that's when Dan knew that they were in the lounge.

"Phil, are you alright?" _PJ._ Dan couldn't help but smile –– even if he didn't like hearing how tired he sounded, he felt as if it's been years since he last heard his voice.

"I'm fine," Dan could hear Phil reply, "more than fine, actually!"

"It's just…" He could hear the hesitation in PJ's voice. "Um, you know it…uh––"

"It's been quite some time, Phil." Dan's smile faded slightly; was that really Louise? She sounded even more tired than PJ did, but she also sounded concerned; it wasn't anything new for Louise––she was pretty much the most motherly person he knew––but it sounded…different. More scared than concerned, he slowly realized.

"I know." Phil's voice is quieter now. "I'm sorry I shut you all out for so long."

"Honey, it's not your fault," Louise says gently, and Dan smiles; there's the voice he remembered. "You're grieving; we understand."

"That's, um, exactly what I wanted to talk to you guys about."

Dan wondered what would happened if he did it now.

He quietly left his room without a sound and ventured down the stairs into the lounge; close enough to the wall to remain hidden from view.

When he peers past the wall, he can see everyone on the couch. Phil's thumbs pressed together, and his feet silently tapping against the ground. PJ and Louise are exchanging rather nervous looks. His heart begins to race.

"Is everything okay?" PJ asks.

Would Phil get mad?

"More than okay." Phil's smile grows. "Guys, this is going to sound really crazy, but…but something amazing happened."

Would Phil understand?

"Phil, I'm glad to see that you're smiling, but it's creeping me out," Louise said slowly.

 _Or would Phil break?_

"Okay." Dan could hear the excitement in Phil's voice and he held in his tears. "Guys…Dan's alive."

* * *

Silence.

Dan is standing in front of them now, bracing himself for the worst. Louise and PJ are staring at where he's standing. Phil is looking at Dan with a bright smile, and Dan can't help but smile back.

"I know you must be very confused right now," Phil says, breaking the silence, "I was too. But it's not some weird prank or it's not a dream — he's _there_."

Phil points at Dan, and it seems like there is a big, bright spotlight shining on him. It seems too bright, and he feels all the attention on where he stood.

"Guys?" Phil asks, nervous now. "Say something, please."

Dan bites back tears; it was too much. _This was too much._

"Is he—" Louise's loud sob cuts PJ off. She breaks down into tears in front of them, her face in her hands. PJ rubs her back reassuringly, but even he is on the brink of tears.

"Maybe we should leave, Phil," PJ whispers. Phil looks at Louise, almost confused.

"Louise?" He ignores PJ completely. "Are you alright? Hey, talk to me, please."

"P-Phil," she sobs, "I'm…I'm sorry."

And she breaks down again, and Dan wants to as well.

* * *

 _"They must've been in shock."_ Phil's explanation is echoing in his ears. Dan is lying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. _"They'll come back, and they'll be happy to see you, Dan."_

Dan squeezes his eyes shut, sitting up slowly — sleep was never going to happen at this rate.

 _"Just give them time."_

"Hey."

He looks up, and Phil is at Dan's open door. He blinks.

"Phil." His voice doesn't even sound like his own. Phil seemingly doesn't notice.

"Can I come in?" he asks gently. Dan notices the time on his alarm clock beside him—11:21 pm only?—and nods.

"Yeah, come in." Phil gives him a small, tired smile and walks in. He climbs onto the end of the bed, sitting cross-legged across from him.

"Can't sleep?" Dan nods, and Phil sighs.

"Me too," he says, and Dan looks down at his bedsheets. Phil looks at Dan and it's only at night that Dan seems to _glow_.

Because during the day, his face is pale; and even though he had thought of that before, he seems even paler. His hair is bundled in messy curls — ones that haven't been brushed in some time. The clothes he has been wearing since the day he returned look worn out at the edges.

And he seemed like he was fading.

His smile, his eyes; every move he took seemed as if it was his last one. He looks tired, and Phil felt as if it he was completely helpless to watching _Dan die all over again._

"Please tell me," Phil whispers, his voice scratchy.

Dan feels his heart drop.

* * *

 _Dan stood at the roof's edge, looking down at the crowd of people below him. They were circling around the entrance to the apartment building, herding around the edge of the sidewalk and surrounded the door._

 _The only person he could see was Phil; phone to his ear and watching the fear set in his eyes. Dan took a deep breath –– he has to fall. He has to escape._

 _Just not like this._

 _He dropped the phone, and jumped the second Phil took a step forward._

 _The fall was longer than he thought it'd be. His eyes stared at the sidewalk that slowly became bigger and closer before it grazes his nose and––_

 _…an airbag. Yes, there was an airbag. The people were, of course, very surprised, and…_

 _He got up. This was the time that he was supposed to get up now to a seemingly shocked crowd around him. Lillian was the one that put the airbag there—yes, that was who it was—and she was waiting for him at the back of the apartment building; waiting for him so they could run away and they could learn to love each other and, I dunno, start a family? They can run away,_ let's run away, _le—_

And Dan broke.

Something inside of him snaps and he begins to cry, gut-wrenching sobs escaping against his will. Phil watches him wordlessly, trying not to cry as well.

"Dan?" He looks up upon hearing Phil's voice, tears streaming down his face.

"I can't," he sobs. "I can't do this to you anymore."

"Do what?" Phil's voice sounds desperate; almost a whine. "Dan, please talk to me. I want to be here for you. _Please let me in._ "

Phil is crying now too. Dan doesn't look at him.

"I-I'm sorry," Dan manages to get out.

"Let me hug you." Dan could almost feel something in Phil breaking. "Please, Dan, _for fuck's sake._ "

 _"I can't."_

 ** _Snap!_**

Phil storms out, slamming the door behind him. Dan stares at the place Phil once took up on his bed and sighs, falling on his back and staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow was another day.

* * *

The next morning, Dan walks into the lounge to see Phil on the couch, his face void of any emotion. Dan gulps — was last night as bad as it seemed?

Phil eventually notices Dan, and to his surprise, beams at him.

"Good morning!" he chirps. Dan blinks.

"Um, good morning." He watches Phil smile at his response, reaching over to grab his bowl of cereal on the coffee table.

"You want some?" Phil asks through a spoonful of cereal. Dan shakes his head, and Phil shrugs, mumbling something along the lines of "suit yourself," and Dan taps the side of his leg nervously.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks. Phil's head whips up from his laptop and he slams it closed. The sudden noise makes Dan jump, and Phil stands up in a swift motion.

"Just _peachy!_ " he says loudly, startling Dan. He is looking for any signs of sarcasm, but fails to find anything.

However, there was something in Phil that just…scared him.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly. Phil grins.

"I am!" he says, reaching to grab Dan's arm. He quickly pulls back, and there's a split second of sadness— _or was it anger?_ —running through his eyes until it flickers out completely.

He shakes off the sudden tension and motions Dan over to the couch. He hesitantly sits a few inches away from Phil, but he barely notices.

"Is everything alright?" Dan asks nervously.

"That and better," Phil says excitedly. He opens his laptop and spins it around to show Dan. His eyes widen.

 **| _Phil Lester (✓); AmazingPhil ● 12m_ |**  
 _It's that time of the month — guess who I am filming with today =^.^=_

Dan shoots up from the couch.

Silence.

"What…the _fuck?_ " he whispers softly, his voice cracking. Phil obliviously beams at him.

"I know it isn't the most _discreet_ hint,"—Phil stretches out the word, eyes rolling at the ceiling and ignoring Dan completely—"but hey, it doesn't have to be a surprise of some sorts, it ju—"

"It shouldn't even be a surprise!" Dan yells. He runs a finger through his hair and mutters, "God, that tweet shouldn't even _exist_."

"Dan, we are _trending!_ " Phil exclaims, scrolling through the replies. " '#PINOF9'? Dan, just _look_ at this stuff."

 **| _Meh-lissa; july28bBY ● 10m_ |  
** _wait wOT_

Dan swallows a lump, tears blurring his vision as he covers his mouth.

 **| _SAVvy; lovelylester3 ● 9m_ |**  
 _phil what the fuck is going on_

 **| _Louise (✓); LouisePentland ● 7m_ |  
** _Phil, call me. Please._

"Holy shit," Dan whispers, his voice nearly cracking. He could hear Phil's phone buzzing on the kitchen counter.

 **| _Jesse B; dazzlinglester ● 6m_ |  
** _OMG SO EXCITED :D_

 **| _Dustin; spookyeggos ● 6m_ |  
**hey it's none of my business but could you call louise? i'm worried too

 **| _kickthePJ (✓); kickthepj ● 5m_ |  
** _I don't care how many people see this, Phil. You're not answering me and you've gone mad._

"So," Phil asks, "what do you think?"

Dan feels everything spinning around him.

"P-Phil," he stammers, "what the _fuck_ have you done?"

 **| _Jessicaaa; dansrightboob ● 4m_ |  
** _Glad to see you finally replaced Dan lol_

 **| _Rebecca; beccathebeta ● 4m_ |  
Replying to dansrightboob  
** _are you fucking serious right now_

 _| **Louise (✓); LouisePentland ● 2m**_ **|  
Replying to LouisePentland  
** _Seriously, I'm coming ove—_

Phil slams the laptop closed, and the buzzing from his phone stops. He looks at Dan, who had tears rolling down his face.

"What do you mean?" His voice is still high, and it's still innocently happy. "Dan, this is it."

"This is _what?!_ " Dan exclaims. "Jesus fucking Christ, Phil, you have to take this down."

"Dan, this is what makes us normal again!" Phil says, standing up and moving across the lounge.

"We'll explain everything." Phil waves his arms wildly, as if weaving the story in thin air. "We'll tell them what happened!"

"Phil—"

"Think about it, Dan!" Phil cuts him off. "Things can continue like normal! We can tell everyone it was one of those miracle situations where you were never actually dead! You can start making videos again, and we can go back to our normal lives…with some d—"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Phil!" Dan screams. "This isn't a joke, alright?!"

Phil stops mid-sentence.

"…are you not happy?" Phil asks, his voice dropping to a near-dead whisper.

"Happy?" Dan asks in disbelief. He laughs almost manically, rubbing his eyes and brushing his hair behind his ear. "Oh my God, Phil, how can I be _happy?!_ How could you do this without telling me?!"

"You would say no!" Phil protests, trying to keep his voice down. "Dan, you wouldn't even tell how you faked your death!"

"Phil…" Dan says warningly.

"No, Dan!" Phil snaps. "You've been here for God knows how long and the most progressive conversation is how many _Game of Thrones_ episodes you missed!"

"Phil, please, can we talk?" Dan pleads

"I want answers," Phil ignores, breaking into a crazed smile, "and what better way to get answers than a good ol' Q&A?"

"Phil—"

"For _fuck's_ sake, are you even going to touch me?!" Phil exclaims, and Dan begins to slowly step back into the hallway, hoping to retreat to his room.

"Are you going ever going to hold my hand?" Phil continues, walking towards him. "Grab my waist? Tap me on the shoulder to tell me it's my package downstairs?!"

"Phil, I—"

"Why can't you be normal for us, Dan?!"

"P-Phil, you're scaring me," Dan stutters, taking a step backwards.

"I just want to hug you!" Tears are streaming down Phil's face. "I just want to fucking feel you again, Dan!"

"Phil, pl—"

"Can't you remind me that you're real?!"

 _"Don't touch me!"_

Phil jumps back, and it's only then when he realizes that he was merely inches away from Dan, his arms—which were once open for a desperate hug—now hugging his chest.

 _Air._

Phil stares at Dan,  
and Dan stares at Phil.

Dan's vision is blurred with tears and he runs into his room.

Phil doesn't even hear the door slam close. He walks wordlessly into the lounge and sits on the couch. He hesitantly opens his laptop and stares at the suddenly-too bright screen.

 **| _Sandy Dens; summerhowell ● 1m_ |  
** _okay im confused af butt if this is what helps you move on, i am all for it. just…take care of yourself._

A loud sob escapes Phil's lips. Covering his mouth, he slams the laptop closed and with his free hand, chucks it across the room. He buries his face in his hands and he just cries.

 _Move on,  
Move on,  
 **Move on.**_

* * *

Dan isn't in his room that afternoon.

Phil goes for a jog, gets some groceries, runs into some excited fans—"Are you actually filming PINOF 9?" one squeals. Phil just smiles at them—and eats lunch; all alone.

He expects Dan to at least call him, let alone be in the lounge when he returned, but Dan was nowhere to be seen.

To say that he was worried was an understatement.

Phil even checks his room, despite not being in there for weeks. Everything was left untouched; it was almost as if no one has entered it at all.

After eating lunch and calling Dan (or rather, his voicemail), an idea strikes him.

He grabs his coat and quickly slams the door behind him, opting—for the first time in a long time—to take the stairs.

….

He doesn't completely expect Dan to be on the roof, so he isn't completely surprised to see that Dan wasn't there, but he doesn't leave.

Instead, he sits on the edge.

It's a really bad idea—if Dan happened to see Phil up here, he didn't want to _know_ what would happen—but Phil didn't intend on jumping today; he just wanted to think.

As he swings his legs over the ledge and stares at the busy streets below him, he lets out a small sigh.

Dan was once staring down at the sidewalk; the only difference between him and Dan was that only one of them knew exactly what was going to happen next.

Because Phil didn't know. Dan was back in his life, merely a month after Phil lost him. Watching his world crumble without him in it; being hit with the harsh reality that he there was a life without Dan in it.

And he lived it.

It seemed like too much. People say that you don't know what you have until it's gone, but Phil knew exactly who he had.

He had Dan;  
someone he cared about,  
someone he made a life with,  
someone he built a world with,  
 _someone he loved._

He failed to see any of that before he was forced to watch it disappear.

Phil looks up at the endless sky above him. A soft breeze passes through him, and he wraps his sweater tighter around him, as if it were someone else hugging him.

 _Someone he loved._

"Phil?"

He turns around at the sound of his name and Dan is standing there, wind blowing his hair back, and a notebook in his hands.

* * *

Dan sits on the couch and watches Phil pace in front him, running his hand through his hair.

"God, you could've at least called me," Phil mutters.

"Didn't bring my phone," Dan mumbles back. Phil's head falls back, almost tiredly.

"Where were you, Dan?"

"Out." Dan leans back against the couch, crossing his arms and looking down. "I had to disappear for a while."

He bites his lip and hesitantly adds, "You're going to have to get used to it eventually."

Phil stares at Dan and digs his hands in his pocket.

"So that's it, is it?" Phil whispers. "Do you want me to pack your stuff?

"Don't be ridiculous," Dan murmurs. Phil sighs.

"If it means anything to you," he says quietly, "I'm sorry."

Dan doesn't say anything, except beckon Phil over to the coffee table. He wordlessly sits on it, and stares at Dan, who is bending the edge of the notebook's cover.

"This is the only thing I can hold without breaking," Dan explains, staring at it, almost dumbfounded. "Maybe it's because it has answers."

"Dan, are you okay?" Phil asks. "Because if it's about what happened this morning, I am re—"

Dan cuts him off by placing the book in Phil's lap. Phil's eyes widen; he could almost _feel_ him.

Dan's hands pull away before Phil could touch them, and the book gently falls on Phil's lap. He looks up at Dan, who is staring at the book. He nods, and opens it.

* * *

 _my mum fell in love with the black abyss that hid stars under a velvet blanket, keeping them close, making sure it never loses any. when i was a kid, she used to tell me about stars and planets and space as a whole. she liked to compare herself as the night, and thought humans were the vessels that kept the sky alive after the daytime passed._

 _my dad said she was crazy, and then took over bedtime story duties from that night on._

 _i never forgot it. as i grew older, so did my mind and with it, the black abyss inside it. my mum's head was in the stars, but she was fine with being grounded on earth._

 _i was space-bound._

 _recently, i have fallen deep into a theory. that's the only thing that could keep me sane. i grew an interest in the theory of us not being the only species that holds the universe together, and how humans are much like the universe itself; an array of planets and stars._

 _my mum says humans were vessels for the night, but i like to think of myself as a vessel for a small fragment of the universe. this black abyss controls everything inside of me; the planets, the comets, the stars._

 _on good days, it would shake and scream at everything; a universe is supposed to be busy after all, no? it blew winds of space-dust and sent asteroids with messages that shot from one place to another, leaving a trail of fiery light._

 _it's fascinating how it could go wrong at any given time, but it doesn't._

 _on bad days, it was quiet._

 _maybe i shouldn't be keeping something so heavy on crap notebook paper. maybe i should be talking to you. or a bloody therapist._

 _i've been quiet for a really long time now. i have come to terms with it, but that didn't mean others did the same. with silence comes concern._

 _growing up, people said that i was naive and strange, living up there for so long. all i would do is lie down in the stardust that covered my planet, gazing at the stars above, while tracing absurd thoughts in the sky._

 _maybe i was crazy too.  
_ _maybe whoever went up here was crazy._

 _you'll be the last one to explore my universe._

 _october 19. god, i wanted to laugh at you for coming so close to a black hole. however, i eventually made a life laughing with you, engraving constellations of the past, and they eventually told the story of us. you threw dust of happiness i once forgot and waved it around my stars and planets_

 _how could i think the noise would last forever?_

 _there was so much i could take and take and take before it would become silent again. my sanity was something i could comprehend, but never keep; the universe kept me aware. i'm aware of my existence, and that fucking black hole that was always there._

 _not sure when i noticed it, but it's been dragging me deeper and deeper into its heart; not even the stars can grab me anymore._

 _my mum was wrong. i was wrong. god, why did i fool myself in thinking i could ever be a vessel for something so beautiful?_

 _it was me who realized i was not a vessel for the universe, but instead a hollow case. it was tired of being trapped in us, and pushed us to let go._

 _…you told me that ignorance was bliss today. i think it had something to do with the comment section? something along the lines of "kill urself" — not a bad idea, beefucker912._

 _the idiocy of the youtube comment isn't what's driving me to madness. it's this aching feeling of this void, trying to escape._

 _…i'm no poet. i don't get to have final words. i'm a coward._

 _but today? well today i am going to be the brave one. if i ever want to be with the stars—if i ever want to be free—maybe i have to be the sacrifice. maybe i needed to take the leap and break myself to allow this small fragment of the universe to finally **live**._

 _i just can't do this anymore. there is no use in a human life when there is an entirely different world to explore somewhere. i need to go home; **this isn't my home**. i take and i take and i take; and for what?_

 _there's this hypothetical medical condition that people in space experience when they're up there for so long. i can't remember what it's called, but it contributes to feeling of insignificance, and awareness of total isolation from the human race._

 _if it isn't proven to be real,  
_ _why does it feel like it is?_

 _…phil, remember me as crazy  
_ _and move on, okay?_

 _thank you for exploring my universe.  
_ _thank you for creating one with me._

 _never let it die._

 _…and if i don't tell you today, i love you._

* * *

When a tear fell on the paper, Phil closes the notebook and puts it beside him on the table. He looks up at Dan.

"Is this why you…" Phil trails off and instead says, "because of space?"

Dan laughs brokenly and replies, "I drove myself over the edge. It was the existential crisis and the thought of insignificance that killed me."

"You aren't dead," Phil reasons. Dan shakes his head, ignoring him.

"You're the reason I was wrong. You're the reason I am significant. If I could take it back, I would."

He sighs. "But deep down, I know that I don't belong here."

Dan stands up and walks around the coffee table and into the hallway. Phil follows him.

"Don't leave," Phil whispers, and it's only then he realizes that he was crying. Dan covers his mouth, watching Phil go on his knees in front of him.

"Let's run away," he says, his voice cracking. "Let's leave it all behind. Dan, I lost a month of my life because I thought I lost you forever."

"Phil," Dan sobs.

"Y-You wanted to escape this universe," Phil says through tears, "fine! Let's leave! God, Dan, fuck everything we've ever done, alright? I-I don't care about them — I care about you!"

"This is gone on for too long," Dan cries.

"Let's kill Dan and Phil," he sobs; "let's kill our universe."

 _"I'm fucking sorry, alright?!"_ Dan screams.

"Let it die, Dan," Phil says, shakily standing up and staring at him. _"Let's create a new one!"_

Dan clenches his fists.

"Because _I love you, Dan!_ " Phil cries hysterically. "You mean the _fucking_ world to me! If you're gone, then _why the hell should I stay here?!_ "

He was done.

"I-I shouldn't have done it," Dan whispers. Phil's hands fall to his side, defeated.

"What?" he asks softly.

"I shouldn't have jumped," Dan says, his voice dry and broken, "because I love you too."

Dan takes a deep breath, a sharp chill racing through him. His hand flies to his heart, and Phil's eyes widen.

"D-Dan?" he stammers shakily. "Are you okay?"

Doubling over with his hand on his chest, Dan looks up at Phil and smiles.

"Maybe I was the one who needed to move on," Dan says quietly.

"Dan?" Phil asks, worried. "Do you want me to call someone?"

"Hold me, Phil," Dan whispers, " _hold me and never let go."_

Phil stares at him and a loud sob escapes his lips.

His hand flies off his mouth and he runs over to Dan, pulling him closer and he—

* * *

 _I know I am going to regret saying this,  
but I am really glad you didn't tell me._

 _Not sure if it's the people here that convinced me, or if it's the medication, or if it's the time I've spent thinking about what the hell even happened._

 _Or maybe it's the isolation;  
 **the same one that plagued you.**_

 _It's me. I'm the crazy one now. I've been here for almost a month now and I've drove myself to madness._

 _…no. I didn't do it,  
_ _but neither did you._

 _God, I wish you stood up and pushed when the void pulled. I wish you used all the time you had to build something — a huge tower, all the way to reach her favorite star; one that made you happy. You built something here — I just wish you remembered that you did._

 _There's no point in wishing now, I suppose._

 _Now, I would hope your thoughts would pass for now like a shooting star, and that the comets would return, carrying words of demands. I would hope that an asteroid would rip through your universe and remind you that you're alive. A shooting star would race past planets and its fellow stars, and there'll be an end to the silence._

 _Because I don't see a hollow case of a black void: I see a vessel of blue and purple and pink._

 _Because you were a different star. You weren't a star made for show. You were a star that purposely buried itself under the velvet blanket of the sky until I needed you to shine brighter than the rest._

 _Because now you're burnt out…  
_ _…but we don't see stars that are alive, do we?_

* * *

—falls to his knees.

Phil stares at the carpet that was merely inches away from his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he looks up to see something; anything.

 _Air._

Phil claws at the carpet and sobs his name loudly, over and over again; drowning out the sudden knocking at the door.

 _Move on.  
Move on.  
Move on—_

 ** _Never let it die._**

When the door opens, he screams;  
 _and he breaks._

(Dan's going to kill him.)

* * *

 _Come on, Dan.  
Let's go home._


End file.
